Tattoo
by OnlyLies
Summary: Cry drinks; Felix isn't happy. Felix gets a tattoo; Cry isn't happy. But there's always a happy ending just around the corner. Hardcore slash/yaoi/whatever you call it. Pewdiecry.


**a/n: **just a short oneshot that popped into my head. inspired by this (x) warnings; bad language, yaoi/slash/boyxboy, whatever you want to call it. if it's not your thing click away from this fic now. srsly. it's hardcore man. with a lil' bit of angst. (i know i could have written more i got lazy sorry!)

Cry's pacing. Back and forth, back and forth. His eyes are trained to the clock, following the second hand as it ticks its way around a full circle. He's beyond concerned, now. It's been three hours since Felix gave him a quick peck on the lips and promised he'd be back within half an hour. His mind's clouded over with terrifying images, each a theory of what has happened to Felix. Most are just the cause of that dash of melodrama inside him, which he doesn't pay any attention to; but there are a few which are likely, plausible, and scare him. He's nibbling his lip, wanting badly to gnaw at his fingernails but doesn't, remembering it's a bad habit he needs to get out of. And Cry remembers the promise he made to Felix about drinking heavily late at night, which rules it out entirely. But he can see the bottle of vodka from the corner of his eye, and the tug is too strong for him to resist.

He strides over, swiping it up in one hand. It's heavy, liquid vodka sloshing from side to side against the glass walls. Cry can hardly wait. He's managed to keep away from it for months, but with Felix missing and no one to prevent him from doing it, he needs something to calm his nerves and erase his worries. He untwists the cap, bringing it to his lips. The liquid runs down his throat in a satisfying burn. Cry coughs and splutters, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. A few more swigs, and Cry can already feel his head begin to spin, the room blurry. The vodka's potent, goes straight to his head and runs through his bloodstream.

He takes swig after swig, loving how strong the burn is. It goes on until the bottle has been downed and he can no longer focus his vision well enough to see what time it is. But his hearing is still good enough to hear the front door open, the scuffle of footsteps and the slamming of a door. His heart almost skips a beat. It's Felix, he has no doubt. He's flooded with mixed emotions; relief, fear, to name a few. Cry wonders what he'll say. Probably scold him. Shout, if he's really angry.

"Cry?" He hears Felix call. "Cry, where are you?"

"I-in here," his voice slurs. He knows it's a mistake to talk, from the minute he hears himself. Through glassed-over eyes he sees Felix walk in, still to a stop. What he doesn't say is Felix's widened blue eyes. His mouth drop open, before it shuts and he grits his teeth. He doesn't see Felix's hands ball into fists.

Cry does, however, hear his thick accent say slowly, "Are you drunk?" And he nods.

Last thing he sees before he passes out and dissolves into darkness is Felix's ice blue eyes, and his warm hands shaking him.

* * *

Cry wakes up to a disappointed-looking Felix and warm bed sheets. He sneaks a look at the time; it's eleven in the evening. It's still dark outside, and it unnerves him. The effects of his earlier drinking are still wearing off, so he's only got the edge of the headache. He rubs the sleep out of his eyes, weary. His eyes ache. His throat still hurts. There's still a bubble of drunk left in his system.

"You got drunk." Felix states flatly, startling him out of his thoughts.

"Felix, I'm sorry I-"

"No, Cry. You fucking got pissed and I wasn't there to stop you," Felix cuts him off, eyes flashing with anger. "It's no longer about the fact you drank after months of being sober. It's about the fact I wasn't there, and I couldn't do anything about it."

Cry falls into silence. Gnawing at his lip, thinking of what to say. He's stunted. It surprises him, sure. He was expecting loud hollering while he remained quiet, Felix storming out of the room and not talking to each other for two, stony silent days. It's happened before, he won't be surprised if it happens again. Cry's still preparing himself, preparing for when the moment Felix says, "I'm done," and walks out, leaves him to be a sorry mess and crumple up into a ball. He certainly deserves it. Cry sometimes wonders why Felix has stayed this long. It's probably a record, out of all the people he's ever known. Most have recognised him to be a pathetic, worthless waste of space. His lip bites so hard into flesh the pain stings.

"I'm sorry," Cry says after a few beats of silence, "I'm sorry I'm such a fucking dick who only thinks about himself." His eyes cast to the ground, eyes stinging with tears he refuses to let spill. He won't cry with Felix standing here. He'll wait until he's gone, slam the door and drink himself until he can hardly breathe. Then he'll cry.

"Cry," Felix says softly, cupping his chin with a hand that forces his eyes to face his boyfriend, "if you ever think you're less than perfect, you're wrong. _Fucking _wrong and you should know that." His eyes burn with the intensity of his words. "I can't believe you- it's just unbelievable- shut up and let me kiss you," and he does, silencing Cry's mouth with a sweet, lingering kiss that makes his face hot and his body hotter. Felix is a few inches taller than Cry, and sometimes Cry has to stand on his tiptoes to kiss him, and he likes that.

He likes how much taller Felix is, how much stronger, with his arms wrapped around him, Cry feels secure. He likes how experienced he is, and how he can go from a sweet peck to a kiss that has Cry writhing in anticipation. Overall, he just fucking _loves _Felix, and he hates how fucked up of a person he is and how much worse in comparison.

Cry doesn't believe Felix, never will, but his words do put to rest one of the smallest demons inside of him: fear. It always returns, and Cry needs only Felix to help him fight it, or else he'll be consumed by it. Soon enough they both pull away, gasping for air already. Felix rests his forehead on Cry's, blue staring into brown; and they're content with just each other's company and the soothing silence.

"I'm sorry," Cry repeats weakly. "For messing up. Again."

Felix laughs quietly. "Don't we always?" His arm brushes against Cry, causes him to look down and _that's _when he notices. Notices the ink swirled on Felix's arm. It's intricate, really detailed- Cry's fingers trace it, and he hears a hiss of pain. It's still sore, he's guessing. There's still the faintest trace of red. He can't believe he hasn't noticed it before, it practically covers Felix's entire right forearm. It's..hot. Really hot. While Felix kisses his face all over like the fucking sweetheart he is, murmuring words of affection, he's staring at the tattoo. Watching Felix's arm flex.

"Cry?" Felix asks, voice unsure. "Cry, are you okay?" He begins to kiss down Cry's neck, stubble lightly scraping his skin. Cry loves it. He mouths at a sensitive spot on Cry's neck and he gasps, body incredibly reactive to Felix's touch.

"I-I don't know." When he starts to squirm, breathing heavily with his eyes _fixated _on that fucking tattoo that he was given no warning to; Felix stops and gives him a questioning look. His eyes are filled with questions Cry knows he's dying to ask. So he makes the decision to tell him now and save the interrogation that will inexplicably happen later. "You-you got a tattoo?" He tries to keep his voice light, but really he's dying to kiss Felix all over and not have a reason to stop.

Slowly, Felix's mouth stretches into a grin. A smug, I-know-what-you're-thinking-about grin. "Yeah. I'm guessing you like it?" Leaning forward to press a kiss behind Cry's ear. "Got it just for you," he murmurs.

More squirming. "It's really- I-I really like it," Cry stammers. He can't put into words how hot it's making him right now. "Felix, I-" his voice cracks but luckily his boyfriend understands, pulling him into another addictive kiss of his. Cry can sense where this is going, and it thrills him. Shivers go down his spine. Felix wastes no time. Tugging off Cry's shirt, getting him to pull of his jeans.

But when he drops to his knees, it's a different story. Cry's eyebrows furrow. He's confused. "Pewds-Felix what are you doing?" He asks, unsure. All words drop out of his mouth when he feels the warm breath of his boyfriend on his crotch, blowing gently against jeans that suddenly feel incredibly restricted.

"Don't worry about it Cry," Felix says with a smile, and the nostalgia is almost too much. Combined with _the fucking tattoo _and the fact that his boxers are pooling on the floor, around his ankles, and his boyfriend is on his knees, with a smile that could kill. His voice fails when he feels the first lick, hesitant, but shortly followed by a full lap of Felix's tongue, so tantalizingly warm. Already Cry's knees are trembling.

His eyes flicker down; he almost faints when he sees Felix, crouched on the floor, eyes narrowed, tongue peeking out in concentration. He's thumbing Cry's slit, hand curled around his member. Cry's knees knock together in an unsynchronised attempt to stay still, making high-keening noises that come from the back of his throat. His body is on fire. His heart is thudding. His senses are all too-aware, all too-sensitive. Felix begins to move his hand, in a pumping motion while his tongue is lapping Cry's head, paying special attention to an area that makes Cry tremble. It takes a few flicks of his wrist and laps for Cry to feel the beginning of his orgasm, coiling in his stomach.

He pants. He's close, he can feel it. His arms drop down, finding Felix's hair that hands wind their way into, tugging at the strands, fingernails scratching the scalp. "F-Felix, p-please," he mutters. He doesn't know what he's asking for; he just needs his release. Then, all of a sudden, Felix stops. Slows to a standstill, with his tongue still on the underside of Cry's member. "Felix-you've got to be-got to be fucking kidding me," Cry's head is spinning.

"Hmm?" Felix's eyes are devious. His smile is worse. It reminds Cry of how evil he really can be. "What do you want?" He asks softly, tracing the veins of Cry's member. "Tell me, baby."

The nickname doesn't exactly make things better. "Felix- just- just-" he breaks off to whine when he feels another spark, set off by nothing. "Touch me. Please." His request is enough, not exactly the pleading Cry knows Felix was looking for, but it's enough. He sighs in relief when he feels Felix's warm mouth around him, bobbing his head in a rhythmic motion. He almost loses it when he sees Felix force himself so far down, his nose nuzzles against the soft hair that grows on Cry's lower stomach. He feels like things can't get any more intense, any more powerful. Felix has him like putty in his hands.

"Almost there, baby," Felix mutters, "c'mon." He works harder to get Cry off, head moving faster to match his hand's pace. It works. Cry's orgasm is long, drawn-out, and he cums with Felix's name falling from his lips in a mewl, hand gripping the forearm with the tattoo inked on. Cry can guess it hurts him, but Felix doesn't say a word. He can't look any more triumphant, grinning ear to ear.

He got Cry off solely using his hand and tongue, and Cry knows it's an achievement to be proud of. He blushes; he feels exposed. Completely naked while Felix stands up, fully clothed. They exchange a gentle kiss, Felix being more forceful than normal. Cry's leg nudges against him, and he realises. Mouth agape, he _realises. _And asks sheepishly, "Need any help with that?"

"Maybe," Felix breathes, running his hands over Cry's body. He's always like this. Always really possessive after sex, needs to be reassured Cry is his, and _only _his to have. "Round two?"

It's a big ask, but they both know the answer. He never gives into those big blue eyes. "Bedroom."

Cry blames the tattoo.


End file.
